Of Hospital Gowns and Utility Closets
by Death by Persica
Summary: Sometimes it doesn't just take therapy and tying knots to cope. Sometimes it also takes a friend, with a little somethin' somethin' more. Katnick, Finnick's POV. Spoilers for the last book. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1: A Grip on Reality

Well then, I don't know how else to say this so allow me to start out with the cliché "this is my first…" author's note. –clears throat–

This is my first Hunger Games fanfic. Though I've written stories here, as well as FictionPress.

Ironically, being such a diehard Peeta/Katniss fan, I decided to write a Finnick/Katniss story as my first. I felt like starting with something that had more _oomph_ and felt as though Katniss and Finnick would have more _**oomph **_because one, Finnick is such a flirty, pretty boy, manwhore type of boy; two, Katniss is such a pure, naïve, "_You're going to stick__** what in my what **__now?_" type of girl; and three, they would make such a hot pair of friends with benefits. I dare not do that to Peeta and Katniss, and their relationship. Never.

Oh yeah, last thing, **disclaimer:** It's a given that I'm not Suzanne Collins, so I don't own the series. It should also be a given that you should be prepared for spoilers, if you had not read all three books yet, so please do not wring my neck if I spoiled Catching Fire or Mockingjay for you.

Anyway. Here goes.

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><p><strong>Of Hospital Gowns and Utility Closets<strong>

_**Chapter One: A Grip on Reality**_

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><p>"<em>Annie."<em>

My mind drifts in and out of reality. Or at least, what I think is reality. There are times when, though I am aware that I am heavily sedated, I can feel the movements and hear the voices of people around me, people I am not completely sure I know. _"He won't buy it anymore, we can't just –" _It's only for a fleeting moment, however. A single sentence, phrase, or word, and then I'm sucked back into dreamland.

My dreams are a hazy, distorted and anachronistic bunch of images from before and during the Quell. They flicker back and forth. From Annie, to everything else. They play over and over again in my mind, each time a little more vivid, and each time a little less chronological.

Behind closed eyelids, I see Peeta's unconscious figure, beneath my dehydrated self, pushing down on the center of his chest. Across me is Katniss Everdeen. I recall that, in reality, she was frantic. However, the figure in my dream seems calm and collected. She has a hand resting on her stomach. I pump my hands hard on Peeta's chest, and then bend back down, pinching his nose, to puff air into his lungs. I sit up once again, hands still working as sweat trickles down my forehead. I look up and see Katniss. Her image flickers, as if she changed her position momentarily. I stare at her figure, completely forgetting about my previous predicament a moment ago. She stares back. Then, in a split second, she shuts her eyes tight and covers her ears, hunching forward. I can feel myself stir physically, in the distant reality. In the dream, I look back down just as I hear Peeta gasp beneath me and I pull my hands away. "Thank you," imaginary Peeta says, unflustered, as if he wasn't dead just a few moments ago.

Looking up, I'm suddenly in the Remake Center, among chattering victors. The only detail that is different is the fact that everyone and everything is glowing. I spot Katniss, beside her chariot, stroking the neck of one of her horses. I approach her and she turns to find me, popping a sugar cube into my mouth, inches away from her face. I tilt my head to the point that my lips barely touch hers. I can hear myself say to her, "What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?" She gazes into my eyes, her expression is one I cannot read. Her eyes lower, flicker back up to me, and then lower again. Before I realize it, our lips meet.

There's this warmth that grows within me; it almost feels like a hunger, a thirst. I want more but suddenly the image of Annie floods through me and I want to guiltily cry out and tell her I'm sorry. Not for the fact that I just dreamed of myself kissing a girl from District 12. No, I've done far worse than that in the Capitol. I want to tell her I'm sorry I left her alone, to watch me fight to the death in the Quarter Quell. I can feel myself slowly coming to my senses and I begin to become aware of the fact that when I wake up, Annie won't be there to hear it.

I recall that I had awakened in panic. "Annie! Annie, where is she?" I looked up frantically at a nurse dressed in white hovering over me. I began to sit up when a stabbing pain shot through my chest. I let out a gasp. "She's not here," she said simply as I watched her inject a syringe of clear fluid into the tube attached to my arm. I drifted off instantly.

I'm desperate.

Desperate.

To see her face.

To hold her in my arms.

To feel her next to me, and not dream of her any longer because the pain has gone way too far for me to cope. And if I'm becoming a morphling then so be it because I need her. I need her and she's not here and I can't do this and this isn't real but she's standing there in the back of my mind and she's standing there and she's calling out. I'm running, running, running, though I know I am in a state of dreaming, and she has her arms wide open but I can't –

See. Everything is pitch black.

"… _Another rebel leader along with Everdeen."_

Everything is black and I think to myself that I'm probably dead. I'm hoping that, for some reason, a nurse decided to put me out of my misery and give me an overdose. I'm wishing for death, thinking to myself that this is the end of my suffering, when suddenly a flash of blue fills my vision.

"Everdeen," Annie says softly. I'm still asleep. Still dreaming. I'm sitting next to Annie, my beautiful Annie, wearing a bright blue silk dress. She's pointing to the screen on the wall, across her room. They're featuring a replay of the District 12 reaping. I see Katniss on the screen, pushing past Peacekeepers. The screen flickers to her sister, sobbing and screaming. "Everdeen," Annie whispers. "She had no other choice. She had no one else." I wonder for a moment if she's talking about Primrose or Katniss but I let it slide. I stroke Annie's face and lean in to kiss her cheek, "You, on the other hand, have someone else." She blushes and I whisper into her ear, "I, too."

She slides unto my lap; her skin is warm against my lips as I plant kisses along her neck and shoulders. She sighs and adjusts herself to face me, to caress my cheek. _Damn_ how I love her. I instinctively lean against her hand. She looks at me blankly, her figure shifting and becoming hazy. Suddenly she stands and turns her back on me. Switching the screen off, she stands in the middle of the room.

"Annie?"

A minute passes and it seems everything in the room is trembling. I look at her and notice that her hair had been braided to one side. The television explodes, causing the shelving beneath it to set fire. She turns her head so I can see her face and it's not Annie.

It's Katniss.

She smiles.

And everything in my little dream world slowly begins to crumble and fade away.

My eyes shoot open and I'm momentarily blinded by the brightness of my surroundings. After a moment, when my vision has adjusted to the room's lighting, I begin to realize that whatever pain I had in my chest has disappeared and has been replaced with gnawing emptiness in my stomach. In my head I take a guess that I've been out for days. Slowly getting up, I examine the area and realize that I'm in the District 13 hospital. There are others around, judging by the sound of other beeping machinery and low whispering voices, though I can't see them due to the white curtains enclosing my bed.

Amusingly, as though it had been perfectly timed, these curtains are pulled back and a queasy looking Haymitch steps in, scratching his arm.

"Oh," he stops for a moment, obviously surprised by the fact that I was awake. "You're awake."

I try to laugh but end up wincing, realizing that the pain in my chest hasn't completely disappeared. "Thanks for the heads up," I nod as I clutch my side, which seems to be aching as well.

He snorts at my attempt to be humorous. He's dressed in a grey top and pants, looking as though he had a beating. Seems to me that he's more in need of hospitalization than I am. "Well glad to see you're awake, pretty boy," he takes a seat on the edge of my bed. "I don't know how long you're going to stay awake this time. You better. I think you've had enough beauty sleep to finally be filled in on what's going on."

I blink at him, half-listening, half-taking in my surroundings. "Stay awake?"

"Yeah, we've been trying to keep you conscious and alert for at least _five minutes_ but you're one hell of a mess."

"Me? Look at you. And you're calling me one hell of a mess," I grimace. He brushes my comment off and reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. I stare at the object before its name registers in my mind. Cords twisted together creating a singular, stronger cord. Most commonly found in the seaside fishing docks along District 4. _Rope_. The sight of it nearly calms me down entirely.

"You," he says, pointing the coil of rope at me before tossing it on my lap. "This here is for you. Doc said it will help with the trauma. You seem to be fine now but you've been kind of dazed and… loopy at times, when you were awake, which is why we had to sedate you."

I run my fingers along the rope, "So. How long have I been out?"

"A few days," He pauses. "Shall I fill you in and remind you of what's been going on. Or is this already too much? I mean, the last time I talked to you, I had to say what I had to tell you about _three times_ to get it through you."

"No, go ahead. I can handle it. I think."

He reminds me of what had happened in the area, pausing every now and then to ask if I remember or if I understand. He tells me of the explosion of the force field, the rescuing of Katniss and some of the other remaining victors, including myself, the fact that we're in an actually existent and thriving District 13, my asking for Annie, requesting Plutarch to let me go back to District 4 for Annie, and apprehension over why they can't bring Annie here.

He reminds me of the fact that I saved Haymitch's face from being clawed off by Katniss, "She's still not quite _all right_, but she's awake, I guess."

I somehow feel the need to ask about where Katniss is, but before I can, he fills me in on my meltdown when I find out Annie has been taken hostage by the Capitol. After the meeting with Plutarch, I have very few memories that I can recall, even vaguely at the very least, but I take in all the information he's giving me, trying as much as possible to piece together this and that, and trying incredibly hard to keep myself unruffled by the overwhelming feeling that's beginning to swell up in me.

He scratches his arm and says, "Well, I guess that's it. For now. They'll fill you in further later on."

"What's that?" I point at his arm.

He looks annoyed, probably thinking that I wasn't listening, but gazes to where I'm pointing. "This?" He lifts his arm and points at a white band around his wrist. "This is some sort of label these clowns use here to identify the people who are apparently cuckoo in the head. I mean, me? A nut?" He scoffs, "I'm in freaking rehab for the sake of Little Miss Scratch-Yer-Face-Off. Jeez. Do you know how _impossible_ it is to get my hands on some alcohol around here? Even the medicinal type!"

I lift my right hand up and see that I have one as well. "Oh, goodie. Looks like you've got one too. Welcome to the madhouse," he says as he pats my leg.

"I meant the purple ink on your arm, actually," I say sheepishly.

"Ah. Gotta be more specific, Odair," he puts up his forearm. "This here's my schedule. Once you're out of this loony bin, you're going to have to follow one everyday. They've got practically everything here figured out. Even have this "nutrition" bullshit going on with the food servings. It's ridiculous."

A nurse steps in, carrying a tray of syringes. A wave of panic washes over me. "Sir, I don't think you're supposed to be in here," she says as she sets the try down on a table next to the bed.

"I don't think so either," Haymitch says flatly, getting up. "Not to worry though, was just about to leave. I'm supposed to be down in the dining hall." He nods at me before he turns to leave.

"How are you feeling? You seem to be a lot better, judging by the fact that Mr. Abernathy didn't seem irritated after speaking to you." The nurse says, picking up a syringe and tapping it several times with one hand. She looks at me and probably notices how pale I'm getting. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry! This is your lunch. Don't worry. It's just a precaution."

I look at her inquisitively.

"The last time you ate, you barely swallowed before you lost alertness. You nearly choked. You should be thankful you didn't," she smiles. Unfortunately I'm not, because I wish I did.

She injects the fluid into the tube and leaves me alone for a while with my rope. I don't notice that she's back until she taps me lightly on my shoulder. I look up just as I finish my knot. Next to her is a wheelchair. She beckons me towards it and puts down a pair of plain white slip-on shoes for me to wear. "Everyone is required to gather in the Collective right now. You're in better shape, so there's not reason for you not to go."

I look at the wheelchair, forgetting for a moment why it was there. "Mr. Odair?" I blink, fully aware of what's going on again. "I think I'll just walk," I tell her.

"Are you sure? Do you need any help? I can take you there." She sounds a little more eager than concerned.

"No, I'm fine," I stand a little too quickly, causing me to feel dizzy. I place my hand on the nurse's shoulder to steady myself. Once I feel fine I look up at her and grin. "Sorry, I'm fine, really," I say. She brushes a strand of her blond hair aside and tucks it behind her ear, blushing. I guess my apparent insanity doesn't stop her from ogling me.

"Well, alright then," she clears her throat, obviously flustered. "I'll bring you to the front. Nurse Everdeen will be leading the patients on this wing to the Collective."

_Everdeen._ I can hear Annie's voice in my head as I follow behind the nurse, hands still fiddling with the rope.

As we proceed down the halls, I don't pay attention to anything else other than the rope in my hand. I hear chatter around me as I tie and untie the rope, making all the different knots I had learned back in Four. Whether or not anyone had tried to directly speak to me, I do not know, but I continue tuning out the discussions of the other patients, some clad in only hospital gowns and some in robes, standing in a group in one corner of the Collective. I'm just about to completely knot an anchor bend when I'm nudged. I look up to see the person responsible and expect an apology, only to find a dark haired girl staring at me intently.

"Finnick! How are you doing?"

I surprise not only her but also myself as my hand darts to grip hers. "Katniss," I say, quite happy, _incredibly _happy seeing her. "Why are we meeting here?"

She tells me of how she's Coin's Mockingjay, so long as the other tributes, those who are currently in the hands of the Capitol, are granted immunity. Apparently she asked for this promise to be made "in public, so there are plenty of witnesses."

"Oh. Good. Because I worry about that with Annie. That she'll say something that could be construed as traitorous without knowing it," I say and she suddenly looks a bit distracted. She smiles reassuringly though, "Don't worry, I took care of it."

She gives my hand a squeeze and though I know she's going to let go, I somehow don't want her to loosen her grip on my hand. I'm about to tell her to _please_ stay for a few moments. But she walks off towards the front, leaving me no choice but to go back to my own little bubble with my cord of rope, once again, drowning out reality.

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><p>Well, that's the first chapter. How is it for a start? Feel free to toss some constructive criticism in your review. If you will review.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Want, Need

Ah, finally. Okay. Firstly, I'd like to shout out to _kikis2_, _taemiso_ and _FromTheClouds_. Thanks for the feedback! It really motivated me, really really. Anywhoo! Here you guys go. I hope my pace isn't too slow. I didn't want to dive right into the action because I felt the need to develop the relationship first. Besides, this isn't a oneshot. So no worries, more to come.

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Two: Want, Need<strong>_

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><p>"You know, you could really use some pants."<p>

I grin widely, somehow feeling like my old self again. Year after year of trauma and devastation, you'd think that I probably would have responded differently. Hell, maybe I would have even lost my mind. But here I am, in a situation that would have ended up in my doing, if you may, quite a _handful_ of naughty things with this girl.

And she happens to be the Mockingjay.

Come to think of it, maybe I have already lost my mind.

I lean in closer to her in the tight space of the closet, making sure she feels the lack of personal space. "Why?" I place a hand on her knee. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Her face flushes and flicks my hand off her. "Yes. I am," she sighs. "Look, Finnick. Normally I would stay in here for most of the day. Maybe even have a little nap. But, seeing as you've found it as well, I think I can manage to stick to my schedule."

She's about to get up when I grab hold of her wrist, just as I did with her hand, a few days ago. In the Collective. Even in the dim light, I can see her glaring at me. "Please," I hear the old Finnick fade away, the tone of my voice changing. "Stay."

She sees that I'm back to my "loopy", helpless self and her eyes soften.

"Fine."

I don't think she realizes that I actually found this place because I followed her here, instead of simply finding it myself. I've been wanting to talk to her, since the gathering. She returned to me that day, however, after leaving me to speak to Coin at the podium in front. She never tried to speak a single word to me though. But in fairness, neither did I.

If she finds out though, I have a valid excuse for my stalking her. I got lonely. Simple as that. Right? I've been lying in bed, in my hospital cubicle, without any company or visits from anyone other than that blonde nurse who seems to have the hots for me. The nurse is quite the looker. In fact, she's incredibly attractive. If she were a client back in the Capitol, I don't think I'd feel as disgusted as I would with others. As long as she shuts up, however. I mean honestly, I don't think I currently have the patience to have a conversation with some giggly, twirl-hair-because-he's-so-cute, keep-the-conversation-going-for-centuries kind of girl who just wants to get in my pants. Or in this case, my hospital gown.

So I wandered out for a bit, telling a nurse who stopped me that I was "taking a walk." That was my intention actually, at first. The nurse let me go and I looked back, finding her staring at me, and gave her a wink. I wandered along the corridors, not exactly sure of where I was going. But then I saw her, walking along the halls, constantly looking back to check if anyone was looking. Obviously, she didn't notice me. Soon, I find myself in the Education Center, watching Katniss slip into a closet. I laughed inside. I've always thought of her as such a peculiar girl, unlike all the others, but this sure is something else. I thought, perhaps this was a rendezvous point. For her and. Who?

Gale?

Ooh. Sexy closet love affair.

The next day, though I don't know what exactly my purpose was, I made sure to get to the Center before she did. I made myself comfortable between a box of what seems to be hundreds of pencils and the wall. I think I dozed off for a little bit because the next thing I remember was someone shaking me awake. "Hey," she said, taking a seat next to me as I sat up. "You okay?" I guess, of all things to ask me, this was the most appropriate. Because who in the right, "okay" mind would follow this girl all the way to this place one day and then make sure to get there before she did the next day? She, of course, doesn't know that. I hope.

"Oh. Hi," I paused, hesitating for a moment. "Where's Gale?"

Katniss stared at me in confusion. And it felt like the suspense was killing me but only a few moments had passed when she said, "Not here. He doesn't even know where I am." She sounded bitter and angry towards him.

I felt relieved.

So here I am, sitting next to her among supplies and all sorts of things, talking about my need for pants and our daily lives in this District 13. Listening to her speaking, mostly breathing. Seeing in the faint light, her chest heaving, rising and falling as she inhales and exhales.

"You know what I don't get?" She says suddenly and I look up to see her gray eyes, gazing into mine, her cheeks a little pink. She opens her mouth but hesitates for a moment, then closes it and shakes her head. "Nevermind."

"No no, what is it?"

She exhales. "I mean, I know I told them I'd be the Mockingjay. But. I don't get how they act as if I'm not as unstable as you," she stops then looks at me, but I only let out a breathy laugh. "No offense."

"None taken."

"I mean, this whole thing. It would have been better if…" she trails off then places her hand on mine, which had been fiddling with my rope the entire time. I stop immediately, thinking she's asking me to do so, but she looks at me with an expression that mirrors my own. Uncertainty.

"Can I trust you?" She finally says.

I chuckle, looking back down at her hand on mine before looking up to meet her gaze. "Katniss," I say. "Of course you can." I mean, why couldn't she? I saved not only her life but also the _love_ of her life. At least, that's what I think he is. She seems to deny this though, even to herself. But she's as transparent as glass. She clearly longs for Peeta.

There is what seems like a minute of silence, the low hum of the ventilation audible. She drops her gaze. "I don't know. I want to open up but. You might hide things from me. I mean, I don't expect you not to. After all this."

She's implying about the entire rebellion plot, the plot to keep Katniss alive because it was _she_ who was the face of the entire revolt. The plot that failed to bring Peeta to safety. The one I and several others were included in. The one she was excluded from.

"It was only to save you, Katniss, and everyone else you loved," I turn my palm up to squeeze her hand that had been resting on mine. She doesn't pull away. "If they captured you, they would have tortured all the information they needed out of you. They would have hurt many others once they did."

"Don't you think they'd do it anyway?" She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears, her expression filled with fury. Her voice becomes louder, "They would have tortured me anyway. Even if I knew nothing!"

"No, Katniss—"

"He's gone, Finnick," She buries her face in her hands, leaning toward me, and I drop my rope for the first time in days to put my arms around her. "I want to save him, I need him here because I just don't know how to lead a rebellion, but I don't even know whether he really is a traitor or if he's just lying to save himself. I feel so alone."

_I feel so alone_. I want to tell her that I do, too. But this moment is not the time to bring up my own problems. "Shhh, breathe, Katniss. Breathe," was all I could say.

"I _am_ breathing," she looks up at me, her eyes are red and her cheeks wet. "And I hate it."

This hits me, because I feel the same way, and I want to tear up but I hold it in. I can't show her my tears. I just can't. One, because this'll make me look like I'm not strong enough to help her in any way and in turn make her feel even more helpless. Two, because despite all that has happened, in the back of my mind, I know I still want to maintain my image. In the back of my mind, I don't want to appear soft.

And then I fully understand her concern about my hiding things from her, but I only realize this when she has pulled away and wiped off her tears along with any remnant of sadness on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, avoiding eye contact with me.

I brush a strand of her hair away from her face and tilt her chin so I'm gazing into her eyes. "I'm sorry too," I say. Though I don't know exactly what for.

She half-smiles and only then do I realize our faces are barely an inch from each other. I gaze down to her lips and I start to feel that hunger that I did in my dream. Only, this isn't a dream. This is real. I can hear my heart thumping in my ears; I can feel the warmth of our bodies radiate around us. This is real.

I look back at her, pulling my hand and face away, and see the confusion in her eyes. She clears her throat. "I have to go. To the Remake Room. Getting another makeover by my prep team for the propos," she says and rolls her eyes.

I pout, thinking I should get one too. Because if I'm a mess on the inside, I should at least look better on the outside. "Unfair."

"You'll probably get one too, Finnick. 'Til then, you shouldn't worry so much about how you look," she gives me a light, affectionate pat on the cheek and laughs. "I'll see you later after lunch?"

"Sure," I beam.

I wait a few minutes after she leaves, then pick up my rope and head back to the hospital. The blonde nurse is there in my cubicle and when she hears me step in, she turns around, looking quite concerned and upset. "There you are!"

"Sorry, I just went for a walk," I say.

"So I heard. But are you alright?" She begins to babble about how she came to check on me and found that she wasn't there and how she imagined her boss lecturing her about letting a patient wander about without knowing. Trinket, which I learn is her name and which I think is quite a ridiculous one, sighs exasperatedly but smiles. "Anyway. Can you eat a proper lunch now or do you still need syringes?"

"I think a proper lunch is fine now. But if I were to choke again…" I stop. _If I were to choke again, I wouldn't mind CPR from you, baby_. But I don't say that. Normally, even now when I'm wearing this band around my wrist that says **Concussion, Unstable**, I would flirt without thinking and not stop myself. But this time I do. I stop myself. And this surprises me.

Trinket is still smiling, something she probably _has_ to do as part of her job, as she waits for me to finish. But she shakes her head and waves her hand, "Don't worry about choking so much. Today's lunch is stew."

I return to my bed as she leaves, eat my lunch quietly after she comes back to serve it and go back to making knots with my rope once I'm finished. After what seems like hours, Haymitch comes back and asks me if I want to watch the filming of the propos. I agree and he leads me to the set, where there's a lot of hustling and bustling people. "I'll be up in the tech room," He points at a glassed-in booth. "Y'know. Watching, giving instructions to this other guy to say via the intercom. Will you be fine here?"

I look around at all the commotion and shrug. "Sure I would."

He grunts and pats me on the back before walking away. I watch him for a moment and he turns around. "Oh, by the way," he points at me. "Don't tell Katniss I'm around."

I nod and he gives me a thumbs-up as he walks off.

Katniss walks into the studio, looking noticeably in high spirits, when her prep team gathers around her and leads her all the way to the back of the room where there are mirrors and makeup up kits and all sorts of styling items they brought back from the Capitol. I watch as they paint her face and make her put on her suit. She looks incredible. Gone is the girl who risked her life for her sister's. Standing here now is a woman who will lead a rebellion to victory. And I can't help but stare.

It's been almost an hour or two when she's finally on the set, in front of the cameras. They adjust her makeup, the lighting and the smoke levels, trying to concoct the perfect combination that'd insinuate _girl on fire_. I watch her standing there and she doesn't seem at all bothered by the fact that she's been standing for quite a long time. She catches me staring and I quickly look away, only to look back again to find her smiling. A few moments pass and the set is silent. "I think that does it," Plutarch finally says.

Someone signals her to the monitor and she sees the smoking, _literally_, woman that I'd been eyeing this whole time. I stand up from the seat I had taken behind the cameras and approach her. She notices me coming up behind her and I say, "They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you."

She raises a brow and laughs, playing along with my joke. "And what, Mr. Odair, would you do?"

"Ohh," I pretend to ponder for a moment. "A _handful_ of things."

She wrinkles her nose and shoves me playfully and I chuckle, feeling so much like my old self. There's an excitement buzzing around the room that draws her away from me, so I return to my seat as I watch her continue filming.

My mind wanders off a bit. Thinking of that moment in the closet, when I was gazing into Katniss's eyes. That feeling I had as I stared at her lips. Do I…? No. But then I think of how I nearly flirted with Trinket but stopped myself. And of how I don't stop myself when I flirt with Katniss. How I let myself go with her, something I could do with just about any other girl up until now. I mean, I guess I am attracted to her. Especially at this moment, when she's made up and dressed in that tight outfit. I look at her, speaking to the cameras and something within me stirs. It's not just what she's wearing. She wasn't dressed this way a while ago, nor was she dressed this way during the gathering in the Collective, yet I felt, _feel_ so drawn to her. So _wanting _to be next to her. It's –

My thoughts are interrupted and I hear Haymitch's piercing, jeering laughter. "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies."

I immediately look at Katniss and she's about to burst into enragement.

That's when it hits me.

Around everyone in this room, she built this wall up, hiding what she really feels inside. About this whole thing, about Peeta. But when she was with me, she completely tore it down.

That's it.

That's exactly it.

I needed to know that I'm not the only one desperate and helpless because I lost someone I love and because I don't even know if I'll ever get her back. That's all I needed to know. To bring me back to my senses. To bring me back to flirty, pretty boy Finnick.

And I realize, I don't just _want_ her.

I _need_ Katniss Everdeen.


	3. Chapter 3: Relapse

_**Chapter 3: Relapse**_

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><p><em>Crash.<em>

That's the first and probably the most exact word that popped up in my head, describing the noise coming from inside the Educational Center's utility and supply closet.

I hesitate as I put my hand on the door handle. Although part of me thinks that I'd most likely find Katniss Everdeen infuriated by the turn of events from yesterday's filming, another part of me thinks that I might be in for a surprise. I press my ear against the door, listening carefully for any other noise that would give me a hint as to what I'd find.

"Ohh."

A moan.

My suspicions on this place being a rendezvous point for Katniss and Gale arise once more, despite the fact that she mentioned yesterday that he knew nothing of her location. Despite the venom in her voice when she talked about him. Maybe that changed in a span of a few hours? I mean, she _was_ closer to Gale than she was to me. They practically grew up together. For all I know, in the span of time in which they spent back in her district, they might have fallen for each other. I suddenly feel like a fool as I remember yesterday's "realization." About the fact that she tore her walls down and opened up to me. I was dead wrong to think that it was only _me_ she opened up to. Dead wrong to think there was more to why she stayed with me in the closet. Wrong to think it was not just because I was older and apparently "wiser", or not just because I was the one who continuously saved her and Peeta.

No. Gale must have saved her a million times more.

"_Fuck._"

Jeez. Might as well do it with him in her compartment if she's going to be _that_ loud. Or better, just go back to District 12. Leave the rescuing of the other victors to me. I can't help but to think bitterly.

Then I feel an evil grin forming on the corner of my lips. Old Finnick surfaces and I burst open the door, thinking for a moment that I'd find two naked people entwined into on another, frozen in place. Thinking that I'd see an amusing expression of shock on both their faces. Thinking that I'll have to play the "oh, I thought someone was hurt!" card. Thinking I'll have two people screaming at me as I lose it and burst out laughing my ass off at their reactions.

But oh, how I couldn't have been more wrong.

I find Katniss curled up in one corner of the closet. I step in and examine the area to find it in total disarray. Boxes turned over, containers pushed off the shelf. Talk about rough sex.

She looks up at me and only then do I notice that she's fully clothed. And alone. I shut the door behind me. "Gale's not here, is he?" I say in a low voice.

She looks at me with utter confusion. "Of course not. What are you talking about, Finnick?" But she doesn't seem to expect an answer and looks away.

I walk over to her on my toes, being careful not to slip on any of the pencils scattered all over the floor. As I take a seat next to her, she groans and buries her face in her hand. I simply watch her. And observe how, for such a strong young woman who went througha lot with so much will and courage, she was almost tiny. Especially next to me. The woman I saw yesterday was just a fragile, teenage girl hiding under scripted lines and makeup.

"I just can't believe him," she suddenly says, putting her hands down and turning to look at me. "I just can't believe how he still has control over _my_ life, _my_ decisions. How he just humiliated me right there and then."

I just look at her, waiting for her to continue her rant. She bends forward to pick up a pencil lying on the floor, and then adjusts her position so she's fully facing me, cross-legged. "You see this pencil?"

She holds it up, inches from my face. I try to control myself from cracking a smile and nod.

"This," she snaps the pencil into two unequal parts, "is Haymitch Abernathy."

I chuckle and a take the broken pencil from her hands. "Really, Katniss," I say. "I doubt you can break him in half."

She rolls her eyes, taking another pencil to fiddle with. "Whatever."

"I could do it for you," I offer and though her head is still down, I can see a smile forming on her lips. "Although, I think I'd have to partake in a wrestling match with that drunk bastard before I can even do so." She looks up and smiles.

"See, that's more like it. You look more attractive when you smile," I smirk and reach over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Her cheeks begin to become tinged with pink. "Although I do find it incredibly sexy when you're mad."

She laughs breathily, her face clearly flushed red. "Finnick."

"Just trying to make you feel better," I shrug and beam at her.

It's the genuineness of the moment that reminds me, and maybe even her, that the good spirits that we feel now are only temporary. The emotional ache I have been feeling for days, returns. And any remnant of my playfulness is gone. Her smile disappears as well and she drops her gaze from mine. For a moment there's only this stillness, and silence, between us. Almost as if we are solemn, mourning at a funeral. Mourning for the death of a fleeting, lighthearted moment.

I don't know what else to do but get up and begin picking up the pencils and pieces of paper all over the floor. There's a box that's turned over, pencils spilling out, next to the wall. I can imagine her picking this up and flinging it with all her strength. Distraught, angry. Furious. Helpless. Lost.

I would have done the same.

But then I remember myself, thinking of how she was _getting some_ in here. I look at her, toying with a pencil. So pure. So innocent. So ridiculously innocent that I'm beginning to doubt the authenticity of her being so… untainted.

"Finnick?"

I return to cleaning up, and hear her standing up and coming up behind me. I don't answer and continue arranging pieces of colored paper. Blue. Orange. Yellow. Purple. Red. Green.

"I like green," she says, almost absent-mindedly. My back is still turned to her but I can feel her closeness, her breath, and her warmth, as she calls for my attention once more. "Finnick?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here?"

"What?"

She puts her hand on my arm, to stop what I was doing, and repeats her question. "Why are you here?"

And before I can even think I say:

"Because I need you."

I turn quickly, finding an incredibly baffled look on her face. "You wha—"

Without thinking, without any reservation, I pull her face closer and press my lips against hers. She resists at first, a muffled whimper of objection coming from the back of her throat, but as loosen my grip on her, as I ease up against her, she melts. My hands find her waist and I gently guide her so she's leaning against the wall. Her hands slowly, but still tentatively, wrap around my neck and she returns my kiss. Her lips are softer, and even warmer than I expected. I pull away and she gazes into my eyes.

"Finnick," she says under her breath. But I don't let her finish. I lean back in, more gentle this time. I tenderly kiss her upper lip, and then nibble at her bottom lip. She responds by pulling me closer by the neck and deepening the kiss. She opens her mouth, inviting me to further quench my thirst. She lets out a moan, which drives me to want more. But my desire is insatiable. And hers quite the opposite.

She pulls away quickly and looks at me in disbelief, eyes wide open.

"What the _hell_ was that?" She shoves me away, her expression of disbelief replaced with anger.

I scowl, though I'm quite shocked myself. "What do you mean, "what the hell was that"? I wasn't the only participant in…" I throw my hands up, "…whatever the hell that was."

"You _forcibly_ kissed me, Finnick."

"You kissed back!"

She stares at me, unable to make a rebuttal. "You know what, this is childish. No. This is ridiculous. Let's just forget about this. This never happened. I'm going to go have lunch now. And you," she points at me. "You go back to whatever the fuck you do with your goddamn rope, or wherever the fuck you're supposed to be." She steps aside, making sure there was at least a foot between the two of us, and heads for the door. Way to _not_ be childish, I think to myself.

"So you're just going to act like this never happened?" I scoff at her. Her hand is at the knob when she pauses, turning to glare at me. The tone of my voice softens, "What was I supposed to do?"

She sighs and twists the knob.

I blurt out, "What was I supposed to do Annie?"

Wait. Nonono. _Shit_.

Her mouth drops open. She gives me a look of disgust, before turning to leave and slamming the door behind her.

I turn around and punch the wall.

_God. _

Punch.

_Fucking. _

Punch.

_Damnit._

And after that, I barely remember a thing.

* * *

><p>"Everdeen," a familiar voice says softly. I'm dreaming again. But this time, it's gruesome. I'm standing in the arena of the 65th Hunger Games. There are a handful of nets hanging above me, each containing a tribute. And each tribute bleeding to death from three gaping holes, symmetrical and equally spaced, punctured into their bodies. Blood drips everywhere. One of them, a fellow Career tribute from District 2, stares at me with one eye, the other ruptured and spurting out blood. "Where's your precious Annie now, Odair?" All the other tributes hanging above me start to laugh. No, laugh isn't the right word. They begin cackling, throwing profanity at me, mocking me.<p>

"Whore."

"Capitol's puppet."

"I could sell you for an ounce of beef."

I start to run as fast as I can and I end up in a field of wheat. There's a person in the middle of it. They seem to need help so I approach them.

I see a boy, kneeling on the ground. His back is turned to me but I can see that his skin is covered in dried mud and blood, and his shirt tattered and torn. His arms are wrapped around him tightly as he rocks back and forth, back and forth. As I inch closer, he suddenly whips around and holds out his knife. His bronze-colored hair is in a tousled mess and his sea green eyes are wide open. It's me, though ten years younger.

"How could you lose her? You son of a bitch!" He shouts.

His forearms are covered in streaks of fresh blood and I realize that he's wounded. Except. There's something peculiar about his wounds. I stare at it long enough to realize what caused them. The cuts are too straight, too smooth to have come from anyone else.

Before I can say anything to him though, he charges at me and stabs the knife straight into me.

I wake up gasping, clutching my chest.

"Finnick!"

I look to my side and see Katniss, about to get up from her seat next to my bed. I'm back in the hospital, except I've been transferred to my own room. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can call the nurse," she says, obviously distressed.

"No, Katniss," I reach out for her. She sits back down and relaxes a bit as I call her by her own name. "Don't leave."

She leans closer and grabs hold of my hand. "Finnick. I'm sorry."

My mind is still disoriented and all I can manage to say is "What happened?"

She sighs and lets go of my hand to dig through her pocket. She pulls out my rope and places it in my hand. "Here," she tries to smile but I can see in her face and from the dark circles in her eyes that she's weary and anxious.

I take my rope and start knotting when I notice them.

"Katniss?"

She seems to have realized that I'm staring at the scars on my wrist and along my forearm. I count. Six. Seven. Eight. Judging by the amount of clotting, or lack thereof, and the slight redness of my skin around the wounds, I make a guess that it's only been a little over a day.

"You slipped back into depression, Finnick. We nearly lost you," she's holding back tears. "It's my fault. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you in there. I should have just stayed. I should have—"

There's a _whoosh_ behind her and I look up just in time to see the white, concave wall open up and close behind Haymitch. He looks far better than his last visit and as he approaches, I can see why. He's holding a bottle of what can't be anything else but liquor.

Katniss turns around and he nods at her, lifting the bottle up, "Managed to get my hands on this. Difficult. But—" He burps. "But worth it."

"Haymitch." Katniss looks at him impatiently. He doesn't seem to hear her and takes a swig before seeing that I was awake. "Oh, hey! Good morning, sunshine!"

"He's not in the right state at moment, Haymitch."

"What? I can't pay a visit to an old pal?"

She doesn't respond or object any further so he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Katniss just leans back into her chair, crossing her arms. He smirks, "I'll take that as an "of course you can, Haymitch!" Besides, I've got a _lot_ of time today, sweetheart. Seeing as your visit to District 8 has been postponed."

I glance at Katniss and she shoots him a glare.

"It wasn't entirely my decision, you know," she argues. "Coin said so herself. It's not safe to film. They're still dropping bombs down there."

"_Bombs_?" I interrupt. "What else do I not know?"

Haymitch waves the bottle in the air. "Don't you worry. We'll fill you in once you're released from the hospital," he takes another sip. "Katniss, they stopped bombing just two hours ago. Which is why I'm here. To inform you. That they're no longer bombing. Since two hours ago. Shall I repeat that?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. What time is it?"

He seems a little confused as to how the time has anything to do with what they're talking about but answers, "Around 1800 hours. Nearly time for grub. Why?"

"Then it's too late and too dark to film anything, isn't it?"

He scoffs, "It's called flashlights. And whatever the hell these camera people use as lighting for outdoor shots."

She gives him a look, which causes him to raise both his hands up. "Alright, alright. Fine," he sighs. "I'll leave you two alone now."

He gives me a thumbs up and shoots me a look that I read as "You sure you're okay alone with this girl?" and I nod. He leaves and I look over to Katniss. She mouths "I'm sorry" and she starts to cry, shaking her head, trying to wipe the tears away from her face. But they keep flowing.

"Shhh," I sit up to face her. "It's not your fault, Katniss. I'm here. I'm back. I won't slip away again."

I cup her face in my hands and lean my forehead against hers, staring into her gorgeous grey eyes. With my thumbs, I try to wipe off any remains of her crying. I manage a smile and tell her, "I'm _here_. See? You haven't lost me."

"Yet," she closes her eyes.

"No. Never," I hesitate. "Not if you're around."

She looks up and smiles a bit before frowning again. "I'm leaving in a few days to film that propos in District 8."

I think for a moment, trying to conceal my uncertainty, and she looks at me with anxious eyes.

"Then let's make use of the next few days. Make sure I never end up here again." It's a promise I'm not sure I can keep. But she smiles widely anyway. I'm about to lean in to kiss her when I stop and remember what had happened. "Permission to kiss you, Soldier Everdeen?"

"Permission granted."

I kiss her lightly and pull away, suddenly curious.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"You were supposed to leave today?"

"Yeah."

"So why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"Yes. That's what I'm asking."

"Because of the bombings. And because of what happened to you. And well…"

"Well?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not exactly," I pause. "So why _are_ you here?"

She brushes her lips against mine, then whispers:

"Because I need you."

I grin and it's infectious enough for her to grin as well. She lets out a small laugh as I kiss her on the forehead. I pull away and pat the area next to me, asking her to move closer. She immediately plops into the bed and crosses her legs. I tilt her chin up and lock lips with her once more, the pressure of her lips against mine eliciting a moan from me.

There's a gasp coming from across the room and we immediately pull away from each other. It's Trinket.

"I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. It's dinner and I'm here to give you your meal," she begins mumbling and blushing bright red.

Katniss smiles sheepishly. "I guess I have to go to the dining hall now."

She gets up and heads for the exit, smiling at Trinket as she passes her. Trinket walks over to me and sets the tray beside me.

"I'm sorry you had to walk in on that," I say and she simply nods. "Can you… not mention that to anyone?"

She nods again but she laughs this time, "Of course."

Trinket leaves me to my food, the door closing behind her with a _whoosh_ and I'm about to begin eating when I hear the door opening once more. I look up to see Katniss hurrying over to me. Before I can say anything she leans in, gives me a kiss on the cheek and heads towards the exit.

She pauses in front of the door and turns to look at me. "I'll be back, okay? Stay right _here_." And I know she's not just talking about this hospital room.

I nod. She smiles and leaves in the same hurried fashion she came in.

"Don't worry," I say, though I know she's no longer there to hear it. I pick up my piece of rope. "I'll stay."

* * *

><p>Whee. I have to admit that writing this one was a tough-y. Believe it or not, there are two drafts of this chapter. I just hope this final outcome turns out to be fine. Thank you to all those who reviewed, I really appreciate your insight and hope you're still going to stick around for more!<p> 


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